-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Лавка древностей
-
- Стр. 156/459
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
They
stopped
at
a
cottage
-
door
,
and
the
schoolmaster
knocked
softly
at
it
with
his
hand
.
It
was
opened
without
loss
of
time
.
They
entered
a
room
where
a
little
group
of
women
were
gathered
about
one
,
older
than
the
rest
,
who
was
crying
very
bitterly
,
and
sat
wringing
her
hands
and
rocking
herself
to
and
fro
.
‘
Oh
,
dame
!
’
said
the
schoolmaster
,
drawing
near
her
chair
,
‘
is
it
so
bad
as
this
?
’
‘
He
’
s
going
fast
,
’
cried
the
old
woman
;
‘
my
grandson
’
s
dying
.
It
’
s
all
along
of
you
.
You
shouldn
’
t
see
him
now
,
but
for
his
being
so
earnest
on
it
.
This
is
what
his
learning
has
brought
him
to
.
Oh
dear
,
dear
,
dear
,
what
can
I
do
!
’
‘
Do
not
say
that
I
am
in
any
fault
,
’
urged
the
gentle
school
-
master
.
‘
I
am
not
hurt
,
dame
.
No
,
no
.
You
are
in
great
distress
of
mind
,
and
don
’
t
mean
what
you
say
.
I
am
sure
you
don
’
t
.
’
‘
I
do
,
’
returned
the
old
woman
.
‘
I
mean
it
all
.
If
he
hadn
’
t
been
poring
over
his
books
out
of
fear
of
you
,
he
would
have
been
well
and
merry
now
,
I
know
he
would
.
’
The
schoolmaster
looked
round
upon
the
other
women
as
if
to
entreat
some
one
among
them
to
say
a
kind
word
for
him
,
but
they
shook
their
heads
,
and
murmured
to
each
other
that
they
never
thought
there
was
much
good
in
learning
,
and
that
this
convinced
them
.
Without
saying
a
word
in
reply
,
or
giving
them
a
look
of
reproach
,
he
followed
the
old
woman
who
had
summoned
him
(
and
who
had
now
rejoined
them
)
into
another
room
,
where
his
infant
friend
,
half
-
dressed
,
lay
stretched
upon
a
bed
.
He
was
a
very
young
boy
;
quite
a
little
child
.
His
hair
still
hung
in
curls
about
his
face
,
and
his
eyes
were
very
bright
;
but
their
light
was
of
Heaven
,
not
earth
.
The
schoolmaster
took
a
seat
beside
him
,
and
stooping
over
the
pillow
,
whispered
his
name
.
The
boy
sprung
up
,
stroked
his
face
with
his
hand
,
and
threw
his
wasted
arms
round
his
neck
,
crying
out
that
he
was
his
dear
kind
friend
.
‘
I
hope
I
always
was
.
I
meant
to
be
,
God
knows
,
’
said
the
poor
schoolmaster
.
‘
Who
is
that
?
’
said
the
boy
,
seeing
Nell
.
‘
I
am
afraid
to
kiss
her
,
lest
I
should
make
her
ill
.
Ask
her
to
shake
hands
with
me
.
’
